In the Candle Light at Smith & Wollensky
by Gun Brooke
Summary: Andy has done her best to avoid Miranda Priestly ever since she left her without a word in Paris. Still, their paths cross at a function. At first, Andy's firmly convinced she can't let Miranda know the truth behind her disappearing act. Miranda's reaction to Andy's presence is not what Andy ever expected. Is there a glimpse of hope for Andy so she can reveal her true feelings?
1. Chapter 1

**By the Candle Lights at Smith & Wollensky**

A MirAndy short story

**By Gun Brooke**

**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended. Other lucky people own these characters. I just play.

**Pairing:** Andy/Miranda

**A/N:** I'm still committed to finish my ongoing stories-all of them-but I've learned to go with the muse so I don't get writer's block. *shudder* I hope you'll like this two-part, one-shot.

* * *

**Part 1**

* * *

It was unmistakable. The shiny white hair, the posture, and even the way this woman removed her Prada sunglasses was eerily familiar. Andy Sachs pressed her back to the wall. The large room was filled with people dressed to kill and the risk of Miranda Priestly noticing—or even recognizing—her former second assistant, was miniscule. Still Andy's knees weakened, which annoyed her to no end, and she would rather the wall swallow her up.

The fundraising was sponsored by most of the New York based presses, which included the one she'd worked for three years at, The Mirror. Andy's presence was mandatory, both business and pleasure. In her case, mainly business as she got serious flashbacks from her previous job at the fashion magazine Runway whenever she had to wear a cocktail dress or other evening wear.

"Want me to snap some crowd pics or?" Philip, her escort and photographer bumped her shoulder clumsily. "What's up with you? You look like you're hypnotized or something?"

"I'm fine. Yes. Do some crowd shots and I'll point out the main movers and shakers so you can zoom in on them later."

"Easy enough. Got to keep snapping whoever is receiving a smile from the Snow Queen over there." Pointing and not even trying to hide it, or to lower his voice, Philip moved his gum to the other side of his mouth.

"Just go take the shots." Andy wanted to disappear. If this had been Star Trek, she would've called for an emergency transport and beam back to the mother ship instantly. Instead she clung to her champagne glass and smiled automatically.

"Andy Sachs." A soft male voice made her jump.

Turning, Andy found herself looking into the kind, slightly sad, eyes of Nigel Kipling. Miranda's fashion director. He looked genuinely happy to see her, holding out both hands. Her smile went from polite to natural. She'd always liked Nigel. "You look dashing, Nigel," Andy said and kissed his cheek. He did. The dark, almost black, mauve tuxedo suited him.

"Why thank you. You clean up well too, even if it is off the rack. Guess the Mirror's closet isn't like Runway's."

"Ha. I would think not. Only thing we have in the closet is two gay guys almost ready to come out."

"Are they cute?" Nigel wiggled his eyebrows.

"One is darn cute. Too young for you though," Andy teased, happy to find it so easy to slip back into the friendly banter.

"Oh, boy. You should talk." Nigel performed a well-rehearsed huff.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He motioned to Miranda and her entourage with his chin. "Uh-huh. Yeah? Thought I never knew, huh?"

Her mouth agape, Andy blinked. "Wh-what are you talking about?" Her palms grew damp and the champagne glass became slippery. She fought to hold it steadily.

"That reaction says it all." Looking serious now, Nigel cupped her left elbow and took her glass, placing it on a passing waiter's tray. "I apologize. I honestly thought you'd be over that crush by now. It's been long…what is it now? Three years?"

"Feels like forever," Andy muttered. "I wouldn't have been here if I knew she was coming. I know I'm a coward, but I fake migraines whenever she's going to be at a function covered by us. It's only happened four times over the years as The Mirror doesn't usually move in the same circles as her."

"So not merely a crush?" Nigel spoke quietly. "Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

"I have to go." Andy spoke fast and patted Nigel's arm. "It was great to catch up and maybe we can go out for drinks or something, but—"

"Andrea Sachs." Oh, that voice. So soft, so lethal, and so damn sexy.

Andy turned slowly, braising herself. "Miranda. How nice to meet you after—"

"You haven't told me you kept in touch with Andrea, Nigel." Miranda turned her laser focus on Nigel who swallowed visibly.

"I haven't," he said. "I was lucky to run into Andy a moment ago."

Andy stared at the man who looked nervous now.

"I see." Clearly Miranda didn't believe him.

"It's been a long time. I haven't seen anyone from Runway in years." Andy hoped this would get poor Nigel off the hook. "How are you doing, Miranda?"

Miranda didn't answer the polite question, probably recognizing it was just a polite nicety. Miranda never did believe in niceties or politeness.

"I want to hear all about your career and what you're up to these days, Andrea," Miranda stated firmly. "Why don't you join me for a late supper? Roy's waiting for me."

"Ehm. I can't. I'm working." Andy shrugged, her heart hammering as if it tossed itself against her ribcage like a captured bird.

"Working?" Looking annoyed now, Miranda glanced around her. Spotting Philip who happened to direct his camera toward her at the very second, she whipped her head back at Andy. "You're with this…this member of the paparazzi?"

"Philip is employed by the Mirror and here to take photos while I circle the room and get quotes regarding the charities." Andy was building up to anger now.

"Ah. They still give you these menial tasks at the Mirror? After your series about high schools I would imagine you'd see more challenging work." Miranda lifted one corner of her lips in a disdainful smirk.

"I volunteered as the original journalist is having his appendix out as we speak. Regardless of what you think, this is important. If we get quotes from celebrities and known politicians, it will inspire other people to donate to these causes as well." Andy wasn't sure where her courage came from, perhaps her slow-burning anger at Miranda's never-changing attitude. "It certainly beats a whole spread about the pros and cons of high-end and drugstore makeup."

Two bright-pink spots ignited on Miranda's cheekbones. Andy knew her well enough to realize Miranda couldn't care less about anyone having misgivings about a makeup spread in Runway Magazine. Andy's audacity to criticize the Devil in Prada's pride and joy in public did not sit well with her however. "You are hardly qualified to voice such an opinion, counting, what is it, your three years as a cub reporter?" She gave that crocodile smile she'd give Andy on that day when she first called her 'Emily.'

Furious now, but smart enough to remain calm, Andy returned the smile with her own blinding variety. "You haven't changed, Miranda," she said softly. "You still use the same tired methods of trying to intimidate someone you feel are beneath you." Maybe not so calm after all, Andy took a step well within Miranda's personal space. "I know very well you possess a lot of power in the publishing industry in New York. If you scare my boss badly enough I might find myself unemployed by tomorrow morning, hell, maybe even at midnight. It's rather enlightening running into you again. I thought I was afraid of you, but I'm not."

Miranda's eyes grew wide and then…she laughed. The crowd around them had thickened when Andy gave her icy monologue, like terror-delighted spectators of a dog-fight. Now they all looked relieved and some even dared to chuckle, only to stop and cough when Miranda shot them a menacing glance.

"Andrea, you haven't changed either. What are you talking about? You were never afraid of me. Honestly," Miranda said, now addressing the crowd, "what's there to be afraid of? I'm a pussycat."

Andy quickly covered her mouth and cleared her throat.

"So, back to my original question," Miranda began, but then rolled her eyes at the people around them. "Go away." It was entertaining to watch people scurry to the dance floor and bar like startled chickens. "When are you done 'getting quotes'?"

Andy glanced at Nigel who looked much more interested in the architecture of the old hallway than helping her out. "In about half an hour. I can send off my text electronically." She was doomed. She had to have supper with the dragon-lady.

"Excellent. Roy and I will be waiting outside the west entrance." Miranda didn't wait around for Andy's reply.

"Thanks a lot," Andy muttered. "You're a big help. Or not."

"Probably 'or not'," Nigel confessed. "I'm sorry, Andy. She's not your boss anymore, or mine, but we still work closely together and I want to go to work on Monday not expecting a public beheading."

"Ha. If she wanted your head, she'd taken it now. I wonder what she wants with me." Chewing on her lower lip, Andy prepared to go find her last famous people and pester them for quotes.

"Oh, please. You're not that obtuse, are you? If you can't see what's clearly written on her face, then you may not have a future as a reporter after all."

Stopping and turning around so fast she nearly tripped a waiter, Andy poked Nigel in the chest with her index finger. "Explain _that_."

"Geez, Andy. The dragon is pulling you toward her lair. Supper in public is merely the first step."

"What?" Confused now, Andy's heart began to pound, each contraction painful.

"The dragon wants her fair maiden. Ever since Paris, I think. Listen. She suddenly subscribes to the Mirror. She goes to functions like these, where the Mirror is involved, than ever before. Once, Jocelyn brought you up as a warning example of what crossing Miranda would do to one's career, and that nearly ended hers. We all listened to a several minutes long recount on what had made you the best assistant she ever had and how far you'd come." Nigel patted Andy's shoulder. "Go do your thing. Better not keep the dragon waiting, because surely you must realize what she wants is you."

Moving like she was walking through ankle deep syrup, Andy approached one celebrity after another and perhaps they'd witnessed her and Miranda's exchange, because they willingly gave her all the quotes she wanted and then some. Finally the thirty minutes were over and she had no choice but to grab her coat and send her text…and go face Miranda.

#

Roy looked exactly the same. He greeted Andy and the only thing different was how he held the door open for her. Andy slipped inside the town car, immediately engulfed with Miranda's signature scent. So discreet and yet so overpowering of her senses.

"All done?" Miranda looked at Andy's phone and then up at her face.

"Yes. Sent it all. The night editor will take care of it."

"Roy. Smith & Wollensky." She smirked. "Perhaps you're right. I don't change much. I still like my steaks."

"I like their chicken, when I can afford to eat there." Andy nodded. "I'm quite familiar with their kitchen. They still recognize me. Once one of the younger chefs didn't and the maître d' practically grabbed him by the ear and told him I was Miranda Priestly's girl." Andy blushed as she heard how the maître d's words sounded when she repeated them.

"Interesting," Miranda said, her voice even lower. "Miranda's girl? Hm."

"I've told them time and again I don't work for you anymore, but they don't care."

"They're good people."

"Yes." Andy plucked at the hem of her cocktail dress.

"What did Nigel say after I left?" Miranda asked, surprising Andy.

"N-Nigel? Oh, nothing much, really. We just—"

"I'm sure he said something about me in regard to you." Her eyes now steely-blue, Miranda refused to let Andy look away.

"He, he, uhm, he said you subscribe to The Mirror." That wasn't too bad. Andy smiled wobbly.

"Oh, come on, Andrea. What else? You're not afraid of me, remember."

"That's got nothing to do with what Nigel said," Andy objected. "Just because I don't want to retell everything he said, doesn't mean I'm afraid." Perhaps that wasn't entirely true. If she repeated what Nigel said and if Miranda laughed in her face, that tiny happy seed Nigel had planted, the words that made her float on air as she worked the room later, would crumble and wither before it even sprout roots.

"Then why not tell me?" Miranda's voice softened further.

"He told a story about you chewing Jocelyn out for something she said about me. I'm sure he exaggerated."

"Ah." Miranda nodded slowly. "I remember that. She spoke to one of _her_ assistants who had the audacity to correct something I just said. To have to sit there and have her recount how you left me in Paris was far too…too painful, to ignore. Besides, nobody there knew the truth behind your departure. She had no right. Jocelyn knows better now."

Andy deliberately closed her slack jaw. Painful? Her absence in Paris had cause Miranda pain? How was that even possible? And what truth? She had to know.

"What truth are you talking about?" Andy turned her body toward Miranda.

"You left because you were afraid of compromising your soul, you sense of self, and your values. You left because the last thing you wanted to become was anything resembling me. I realized that after I stepped out of the car and you stood on the other side of the street one second and was gone the next. I don't think I've ever cared about being considered lacking before. So, hence the pain at that very moment. As the weeks went on, I learned of another sort of pain."

"Your divorce. How you feared the girls might be affected. I read some of what was written about it and it wasn't pretty, but you seem to have been able to keep Caroline and Cassidy out of it."

"I sent them to live with their father and paternal grandparents for most of the first six months. I missed them…terribly."

"Oh, Miranda." Andy's heart overflowed with empathy. Not really thinking about it, she slid closer on the backseat. "That must've been very lonely for you."

"It was." Miranda looked down at her hands. "And you weren't there either. Emily did her best, but she…she just wasn't you."

"I'm sorry. I bailed on your at the worst possible opportunity." Feeling like a total lowlife, no, like dirt on the total lowlife's shoes, Andy took Miranda's left hand between hers. "I should've given proper notice and done it the right way. I had to leave, you're right about how I felt, but it's not the whole truth."

The car came to a stop and Andy dropped Miranda's hand and slid back to her seat. Roy hurried around the car and opened Miranda's door. Andy opened her own and slid out, gasping at the cool air against her legs. She wore thin thigh-highs, but they sure were no match for the November wind.

Inside Smith & Wollensky, the tables all seemed occupied, but when the maître d' spotted them, he came toward them with long strides. "Mrs. Priestly! Ms. Sachs!" He motioned for one of the waiters. "Is Mrs. Priestly's favorite table…?"

"Cleared, yes, sir," the young woman answered smartly.

"Excellent. This way my ladies." The maître d' guided them to a corner booth. "I hope this is to your satisfaction, madam. May I offer you some complimentary wine?"

"If it's red, you may," Miranda said, finally getting a word in. "Andrea?"

"Yes, please, some red for me as well." Andy was glad to sit down. Her legs were trembling and so were her hands.

"And we'll make it easy for you," Miranda said and disregarded the menus the waiter tried to hand over. "I want my usual steak and Andrea likes the, hm, chicken, was it?"

Andy merely nodded, feeling a bit shell shocked.

"Yes, some chicken."

"We do a very special Chicken Alfredo with a twist—"

"Good. Make that." Miranda waved the serving staff away. Another waiter came with two glasses of ruby red wine, which Andy sipped cautiously. It slid down her throat like silk.

"Acceptable," said after tasting hers. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes. You were apologizing and also telling me I was unaware of the whole truth. Fill me in."

Just like that? Here? Andy blinked helplessly. The candle light illuminated Miranda's features, softening them, obscuring the expression in her eyes. A treacherous kind of light. It could hide the barracuda in Miranda. What if Andy said how she'd felt back then and Miranda turned on her like the scorpion that couldn't ignore its nature? "I was on a track that was wrong for me in many ways," Andy began slowly. "I knew I was compromising my values when it came to many things, and that's why it's so ironic that I kept them up when I left you hanging right during Paris fashion week and your divorce. I guess I was a bit in panic mode. I even tossed the work phone in the fountain when you called."

"You did?" Miranda lowered her wine glass, placing it carefully on the white linen table cloth. "Go on."

"I had broken up with my boyfriend of several years, had a horrible one-night-stand with the guy who was out to frame you, and as if that didn't make me all sick inside from guilt, I found myself pining for someone who could never in a million years take an interest in me."

Her eyes darker now, Miranda laced her fingers loosely together. "Who?"

God, this woman was abrasive. Never sugarcoating, never any niceties unless it served her purpose, and certainly never with any regard for someone else's feelings. Should Andy risk baring her throat to Miranda when the woman might produce her very own designed katana and chop her head off at any given moment. Realizing she was becoming slightly hysterical and allowing her mind to create silly images like a sword wielding fashion editor.

"Andrea?" Miranda sounded less stern now.

"You know." Of course Miranda knew. She'd had to have guessed by now. Still, Andy knew Miranda wouldn't settle for anything but a full confession. It was only fair, Andy supposed. Miranda probably detested guessing as much as the next person. "I dreamed of you, Miranda."

There. There it was, out in the open, in public, to boot. Andy forced herself to breathe evenly and sip some water. Somehow adding alcohol to this seemed like a huge mistake. She needed to be clearheaded, as much as that was possible around this woman.

"Oh." Miranda's fingers tightened enough to whiten her knuckles. "Well, that's not the first time that's happened."

"Excuse me?" Hearing her own incredulous voice lower into a growl, Andy stared at Miranda. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're not the first assistant who's developed a crush on her boss, no matter their gender. I do believe that when it comes to my assistants, it's more a case of the Stockholm syndrome."

"Huh?" The less-than eloquent sound erupted from Andy.

"A survival technique."

"You're something else, aren't you? You think you know everything, and I suppose you do when it comes to fashion and beauty related _stuff_." Andy hissed now at having the feelings that scorched her very soul dismissed so flippantly. "Surely you know that your social skill, especially at work, leave a lot to be desired, and your ability to read people on a personal level—or should I say, _care_ about people on a personal level, is, to quote you, abhorrent."

"I did not invite you to dinner to be criticized." Miranda said, barely audible. Her blue eyes were almost without color as she narrowed them at Andy.

"Then why did you ask me here? You have asked so many questions and now it's my turn."

The waiter arrived with their food, making Andy grind her teeth since this gave Miranda time to gather her thoughts and deliver some smokescreen line. The waiter left, but Andy didn't pay any attention to her Chicken Alfredo.

"I asked you here because we have things unspoken, unresolved if you will. I thought talking on neutral ground would—"

"Neutral ground?" Andy snorted unhappily. "You make it sound like we're at war."

"Not war," Miranda said and placed the napkin in her lap. Picking up her utensils, she began to slice into her steak. "But perhaps negotiations?"

Andy thought about Miranda's choice of words. Maybe she was right? "All right. Then, here's the deal. I didn't have a crush on you. I wasn't infatuated or obsessed, and definitely not out to see what being in Miranda Priestly's inner circle could get me. In fact, I was trying to pull away. I knew was in big trouble when your face was all I saw when I spoke to other people and when—" She stopped herself before she said too much.

"Yes? When what?" Of course Miranda didn't settle for anything. She was delicately slicing and chewing as Andy spoke.

_Oh, fuck. Well, she asked._ Andy cleared her throat and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. "When I was with Nate, my former boyfriend. He'd make love to me, but all I saw was your face. I resented him for not smelling like you, for having stubble, for having the wrong lips…for not being you."

Miranda lowered her knife and fork, actually dropping them onto her plate with a rattling noise. "You—you…what?" Her lips parted and her eyes darkened to almost violet.

"You asked. There it is. The truth." Feeling the need for alcohol now, Andy sipped her wine, never taking her eyes off Miranda. Perhaps the poor woman would need CPR or something. She looked rather pale.

"And now?" Miranda whispered and her hands trembled as she fumbled for her napkin.

Andy knew this was one of those moments that she would look back at later in life and deem as defining. Was she strong enough to be honest? Miranda's reaction could go either way. Either she would be shocked and horrified at Andy's audacity, or she might actually be kind and even flattered. Somehow the latter seemed even worse. "Nothing's changed," Andy said gruffly. She looked miserably at her plate, unable to even contemplate eating.

"Then we're not where we need to be." After these rapid, cryptic words, Miranda caught the waitress' attention and told her to add their food to her account and box Andy's food. "I've eaten what I need, but you haven't touched yours."

Andy took the box and followed Miranda where she strode between the tables toward the door. "Where are we going?" she asked even if she could guess.

"My townhouse."

_'__The dragon's lair.' _Nigel's words echoed in Andy's mind. Oh, boy. This was not going to be easy. In fact, it seemed dangerous.

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**Concluded in pt 2**


	2. Chapter 2

**By the Candle Lights at Smith & Wollensky**

A MirAndy short story

**By Gun Brooke**

**Disclaimer:** No copyright infringement intended. Other lucky people own these characters. I just play.

**Pairing:** Andy/Miranda

**A/N:** I'm still committed to finish my ongoing stories-all of them-but I've learned to go with the muse so I don't get writer's block. *shudder* I hope you'll like this two-part, one-shot.

* * *

**Part 2**

* * *

Miranda's study was located on the second floor. Andy had been there twice before, very short stints delivering the Book to Miranda when she had sprained an ankle and was home alone. Andy remembered Miranda sitting in a plush armchair, very annoyed and exasperated. At the time, Andy had found it mildly ironic that those lethal Prada shoes Miranda loved so much had been the cause of her injury. Her heel had got caught in something outside a restaurant and only the fact that Roy was by her side had kept Miranda from going down completely. Roy had told Andy the whole story and made her swear not to repeat it. Andy had kept her word.

Now she looked around the cozy room with its cherry wood built-in bookshelves and desk, the same couch and armchair as before, and the thick curtains Miranda just closed. Andy forced back a hysterical laughter at the sudden idea that Miranda was making sure the neighbors didn't witness Andy being throttled.

"Want some more wine?" Miranda nodded toward the small bar area.

"No, thank you. I have a feeling adding alcohol to this is a mistake."

"This?" Miranda stopped in mid-step and raised an eyebrow.

"Our conversation. Talking with you…surely you know it's like navigating a minefield."

To Andy's surprise, this made Miranda chuckle. "I haven't heard that, actually," she said and sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to her. "Join me. I can't keep tilting my head back to look at you. It'll give me a migraine."

"Heaven forbid." Andy sat down, half turned toward Miranda. Their knees were almost touching.

"Better." Miranda adjusted her statement necklace and it seemed she wasn't quite sure how to begin. This unusual uncertainty tore at Andy's heart. Very rarely had she seen Miranda vulnerable. The memory of a pale, teary-eyed woman she'd come across in Paris when that idiot Stephen had over-night sent Miranda divorce papers in the middle of Paris Fashion Week, floated to the surface. It still broke her heart thinking about it, which is why Andy had kept this deeply buried. Twenty-four hours after seeing Miranda like that, Andy had left her without so much as a word.

Groaning, Andy covered her eyes as if to slap the burning tears back into the tear ducts. How was it this still pained her so? Miranda had treated her so badly, so many times, during the eight months she'd worked for her. Taken her for granted, made her feel like an idiot, and _fat_.

"What are you thinking?" Miranda pulled Andy's hand down from her eyes.

Andy gasped at the gentle touch. When Miranda didn't let go of her hand, she stared at it as if it belonged to someone else. Now all she could think of was the multitude of times their hands had met, accidentally. How often their bodies had brushed against each other in doorways. The rides in the town car when Miranda's perfume, that seductive, clean scent, tinged with something dark and deep. It was her scent alone, created for her by one of the finest perfume makers in the world working for Givenchy. Warmed by Miranda's skin, it became part of what made her so dangerous. Not thinking of the consequences, Andy whispered exactly that. "You're dangerous."

Miranda's hand squeezed her gently. "And why is that?"

"You know why." Andy smiled wryly. "You're used to power. Getting what you want."

"And how does that make me dangerous?" Miranda frowned. "Unless you suggest I use my power to deliberately hurt people?"

Andy shook her head. "I'm not talking about 'people'. I'm being purely selfish here. I'm, talking about how you affect me. You have the ability to go deep beneath my skin—and I let you. It's as if I can't ignore you no matter how I try. Hell, who am I kidding? I don't even try. I eagerly gain you entrance to that part of me I keep locked to other people." Andy was out of breath and trembling.

Miranda studied her closely, still holding her hand. "You're possibly the bravest person I've ever met." She rubbed her thumb against the back of Andy's hand. It sent tingles up Andy's arm and she closed her eyes briefly. The innocent touch made her press her thighs together and all she could think in that moment was to kiss Miranda. Her eyes locked on the pale, pink lips before her. Perhaps her staring made Miranda unsettled as she licked her lips a couple of times and shifted where she sat on the couch.

"I'd hate to disappoint you, or for your to regret your words," Andy said, murmuring as she leaned in. This had to happen. She might crash and burn, but she had to know. As she closed the distance between them, she cupped Miranda's soft cheek with her free hand and gently pulled her closer.

Miranda had _the_ softest lips Andy had ever kissed. The texture of them, the taste, even the powdery feel of her high end lipstick, all combined to drive Andy crazy. She kept the kisses light and even if she at first half expected Miranda to push her away in utter shock, it didn't take her long to realize how Miranda trembled against her.

"Mm. Shh," Andy murmured against Miranda's mouth. "You're fine. I'm not going to jump your bones."

"No?" Miranda's left hand snuck in below Andy's hair, cupping her neck. "You're certain of that?"

"Well…" Andy gently tugged at Miranda's lower lip with her teeth. "Unless you want to be jumped."

Miranda's other arm wrapped around Andy's waist. "You're very accommodating." She pressed her lips hard on Andy's, as if she'd been holding back, but had enough of restraining herself. Bending Andy backward, she pushed her against the backrest. "Andrea, part your lips for me."

Andy's heart thundered as she complied. Miranda's tongue pushed slowly into her mouth. Shy, all of a sudden, Andy met it slowly with her own tongue, only to have it taken hostage in a deep, passionate kiss. Forgetting all about any bashfulness, Andy drowned in the ocean that was Miranda. She gripped at any body part to stay afloat, shoulders, upper arms, waist, and eventually her hands were cupping Miranda's breasts through the dress. "Damn, Miranda, I'm going to ruin the dress."

"Then by all means, lets disrobe and go upstairs."

Andy stood, eagerly at first, but something made her halt. "Wait, Miranda. This is going a bit fast."

Miranda's eyes narrowed as she stood as well. "You're having regrets?"

"No. No!" Struggling to push her raging hormones aside, to make sense through the mist of desire, Andy tried again. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anyone. I'm crazy for you, but…"

"But you fear I'll regret everything in the morning and send you packing." Miranda sighed and her body went still. "You don't trust me, and why should you?"

"I want to." Andy whispered the words and wished she could say that she did and let go of her trepidations.

"I however trust you implicitly. Ironic, isn't it?" Miranda turned her back. "Unzip me, please."

Andy blinked repeatedly, but pulled down the long, hidden zipper with unsteady hands. Why was Miranda undressing when she knew how Andy felt? Was she doing it to seduce Andy? Or…Andy shivered. Was she showing her trust by making herself vulnerable before Andy? For all Miranda knew, Andy might decide this was too much and leave. Then again, she'd said she trusted Andy implicitly. So, this might be a show of faith. If Andy let Miranda down now, she knew, _knew_ for a fact, there'd be no second chances.

Why had she gone home with Miranda? Had supper with her and talked about sensitive things that mattered? If it wasn't to take the biggest chance on potential happiness, then why? If she crashed and burned, the recovery would be steep, but if she chickened out, she'd always regret it.

Andy pushed the dress down Miranda's body and hung it carefully across the desk chair. Keeping the initiative, she repeated the maneuver with her own dress. She stood motionless for a moment, wearing only her strapless bra, stockings and thin, lace boy-briefs. Holding out her hand to Miranda, her heart began to beat faster, each contraction bordering on pain. Miranda, dressed similarly to Andy, but where Andy's lingerie was burgundy, hers were stark white.

"Couch? Bedroom?" Andy took Miranda's hand and kissed her palm.

"Bedroom. I want to be comfortable and have plenty of room. " Miranda's voice was matter of fact and sure as always. The fact she sounded raspy still gave some onset of nerves away. Miranda led Andy toward a bedroom, clearly hers, Andy figured as she stepped over the threshold. Pale blue, ivory, and gold, made for a serene and beautiful room. A white four poster bed sat center stage, it's ocean blue bedspread folded down on the right side for the night. Two nightstand lamps created a soft, muted light.

Miranda tugged at Andy's hand, pulling her toward the bed. "Come."

Stopping by the bed, Miranda removed her own bra and then reached around Andy and unclasped hers. Their breasts pressed together, and it was wonderful, but Andy wanted to look at Miranda. She had never in a million years thought she'd see Miranda in any form of undress, but here she was, disrobing further right before her.

"Let me help you." Andy knelt before Miranda and rolled down her stockings, revealing perfect, smooth legs. Now all that remained was the lace panties and before she lost her nerve, Andy slid them slowly down Miranda's legs.

"Oh, my God," Miranda whispered, pushing her fingers into Andy's hair. Her voice trembled and so did her legs.

"You're beautiful." Andy pressed her lips to Miranda's thighs, kissing and inhaling. Miranda's scent was muskier here, and sweet and tangy and…She wanted to taste her. More than that, she wanted to hold Miranda so tight, so close, they merged more than their bodies. Her fears and doubts were still there, but pushed to the background and silenced by the overwhelming arousal.

Miranda slid her fingers inside Andy's panties and pushed them down her legs, following them until she was down on one knee before her. Andy could hardly breathe and it was as if her brain was about to explode at the sight of the white head at the level of her hips. Miranda peeled down Andy's thigh-high stockings and tossed them aside. "Very sexy, but I want to feel your skin." Miranda's voice, hoarse and barely audible made Andy whimper.

"Please, Miranda." Andy reached down for Miranda, but instead the other woman gripped her hips and nuzzled her inner thighs. "Oh, sweet Jesus," Andy moaned. "You're going to be the death of me, aren't you?"

"_La petite mort?_ I promise you'll live." Miranda chuckled and seemed to regain some of her usual assertiveness. She kissed her way up Andy's abdomen until she reached her lips.

Never before had Andy been kissed in such a way. So deep and probing, so tenderly and yet with such forcefulness it stole her breath away. She fell and then she was on her back on the bed. Miranda was on top of her, resting on her elbows, now placing open-mouth kisses along her jawline and down her neck.

"Miranda. Oh, God." Andy arched, and before she even thought about it, her body responded to the intimate caresses by wrapping her legs around Miranda's body. She couldn't care less that she exposed herself completely this way, all she knew was how much she wanted to keep Miranda where she was.

Miranda began moving her hips, undulating against Andy and causing such sweet friction against her exposed folds. "Andrea!" She jerked and ground down harder with her hips. "Y-you're so wet. So wet." Shivering, she pushed one hand down between them. She slid them in between Andy's legs, rubbing gently back and forth, stopping every now and then to circle her clitoris.

Sobbing now, Andy was ready to explode. When Miranda dipped her head and closed her mouth around Andy's right nipple, sucking it deep in her mouth where she massaged it with her lethal tongue.

Sparks ignited, setting little fires ablaze in the center of Andy's belly. From there they travelled down between her legs, warmed her thighs and made her sex swell further.

"That's it," Miranda murmured around the rock hard nipple. "You're drenching me. You need me." She emphasized the 'me' and let go of the nipple. Staring down into Andy's eyes, Miranda looked possessive and spoke as if her words were non-negotiable. "You need this. From _me._"

"I do!" Andy sobbed and found Miranda's breasts. Soft and round, they belied Miranda's age and merely were tremendously beautiful and velvety in her hands. Rubbing the rosy pink nipples with her thumbs, Andy couldn't wait to have them in her moth.

"Pinch them." Miranda groaned. "I need…more."

Oh, certainly. Andy gripped the nipples between her thumb and forefinger, tugging gently.

"More."

Daring to increase the pressure, avoiding using her nails, Andy did as Miranda wanted, noticing how this increased her own arousal. Miranda halted at Andy's entrance, locking her eyes on hers, as if to make sure.

"Go inside," Andy whispered. "It's what I've wanted for so long."

When Miranda filled her with two, then three, fingers, Andy cried out before biting her lower lip. "Oh, yes, yes, yes…"

"Oh, my. So tight and hot," Miranda said with a moan. "Andrea…" She curled her fingers inside Andy and this was more than she could take. Not even trying to keep the orgasm at bay, Andy called out Miranda's name as she locked her legs around her. Rocking underneath her lover, Andy sobbed and wailed, unable to do anything but cling to the woman she loved. If she didn't, she'd explode into those tiny sparks that originated from her core and permeated her body. Not sure how it happened, Andy rolled them over, clearly taking Miranda by surprise. Pressing Miranda's breasts together, she went back and forth between her nipples, licking, biting gently, and tugging with her lips.

It was Miranda's turn to spread her legs and give Andy room. She was shaking so hard, her teeth actually clattered. "I need you." Miranda sounded like she forced the words out. "Andrea."

Not about to let Miranda suffer, Andy kissed a trail down her stomach until she reached the trimmed tuft of silky, white hair between her legs. Shouldering herself in place between Miranda's thighs, she parted the soaked folds and without hesitating, slid her tongue from her perineum to her clit. Miranda froze, then pulled her legs up by holding onto her knees. Andy now had all the access she needed and began her exploration of the engorged folds against her mouth.

Miranda groaned and whimpered as Andy flattened her tongue against the sensitive tissues. "An—Andrea. Oh, yes. Oh!" Andy circled Miranda's clitoris, never touching it directly, knowing full well how much this could drive a woman crazy. Miranda pushed her fingers into Andy's hair and pulled. It probably hurt, but Andy didn't care. She followed Miranda's not-so-gentle directions and sucked the swollen clit into her mouth, lavishing it with her tongue.

Miranda screamed. Arching off the bed, her voice rose to unheard heights as she wailed and sobbed. Miranda's sex pulsated against her tongue and lips and pressed two fingers into her, not wanting to miss any of the strong orgasm. She hadn't counted on Miranda coming again, but she did. Clasping Andy's fingers hard, she shook so violently, Andy had to hold on hard not to be dislodged. She kept her fingers still inside Miranda, in awe at how the tremors came and went. Eventually, they dissipated, allowing for Andy to pull out and move up to kiss a teary-eyed Miranda.

"Hey. You all right?" Andy pulled Miranda onto her shoulder and tugged at the sheet. "Shh."

"I'm fine." Miranda hugged her close and hid her hot, damp face against Andy's neck. "Just…overwhelmed."

"Me too, a bit."

"It's been a long time for me." Miranda murmured the words against Andy's skin.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I haven't had a relationship since the divorce and even before then…" She whispered something inaudible.

"Even before then?" Andy coaxed.

"No orgasms other than self-induced, for quite sometimes."

Andy didn't respond as there was nothing to say. Miranda hated platitudes anyway. Something else, which Andy sincerely hoped wasn't going to be received as a platitude, burned on the tip of Andy's tongue. She shifted next to Miranda and hid her face in the fragrant, white hair, now mussed beyond recognition.

"Andrea? What's wrong?" Miranda lifted her head, but Andy pulled her back down.

"Please, hear me out, okay? I have to tell you the truth."

Going rigid, Miranda nodded briskly. "If you must."

Andy swallowed against the dryness of her throat. "I meant to tell you before we, uhm, made lo—had sex." Clearing her throat, she noticed Miranda holding on harder to her. "If we're going to stand a chance to, you know, make this work, we should be honest. Please don't feel you have to reciprocate if this isn't how you feel, I mean. I—I love you, Miranda. You're the one."

Miranda slowly, slowly relaxed. "And you say I don't have to reciprocate?"

"Of course not. You can't help how you feel." Despite her brave words, Andy died a little with each second. She'd had her hopes up no matter how she tried to tell herself differently.

"I disagree."

"What?" Confused, Andy looked down at Miranda's beautiful face. Her eyes were opaque and didn't give anything away."

"I said, I disagree. I do have to reciprocate for this to work."

What did that mean? That Miranda couldn't and thus it wouldn't? Andy swallowed against salty tears. "So this is it?" she asked, her voice thick.

Miranda frowned. "What? No. I just told you I love you too, silly girl."

Andy slumped back against her pillow, staring at Miranda, her mouth agape.

"Now there's an intelligent look for you," Miranda teased and kissed her. "Of course I love you. I love you more than I'll ever be able to say or show, and no doubt, you'll go crazy since loving me is not easy—I've been told several times that it's actually impossible.

"Not true." Andy spoke through her tears, this time tears of unbridled joy. "Loving you is…is _everything_."

"Andrea." Miranda wrapped her arms around her and rocked her gently. "I'm not certain how we'll make it work, but I know we will. Do you trust me enough to believe that?"

"Yes."

Blinking, perhaps at the prompt answer, Miranda looked stunned.

"Do you trust me enough to know I'll fight for you no matter what?" Andy continued.

"Yes." Miranda reply was as certain as Andy's, only so much more quiet.

"Good." Andy grinned, suddenly so happy. "Then, can I interest you in some more, uhm, exploration? Perhaps in a nautical setting?" She winked.

"Nautical setting?" Miranda raised her eyebrows, but a tiny smile placed at the corners of her mind.

"A shower. You and me. Exploring. Get it?" Andy pressed her lips against Miranda's and rejoiced in the way her lover immediately responded by parting hers and deepening the caress.

Pulling back a fraction of an inch, Miranda rubbed the tip of her nose against Andy's. "Of course I 'get it'." She rolled off the bed and held out her hand. "Come on, then."

"Oh, goodie." Andy got up and took Miranda's hand. "I can't wait to go exploring again. So much to do, so little time."

Stopping inside the doorway to the bathroom, Miranda turned to Andy and shook her head. "Oh, we have time, Andrea. Lots and lots of time."

Andy's heart did a happy little jig in her chest. If Miranda said they had plenty of time, then that was the truth. They had lots of time.

* * *

**END**


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